Open Your Eyes
by ariadne melody
Summary: Set during 3.22. Like all Mystic Falls dances, the fun didn't last long.


**AN**: Sorry for the delay in fics-meant to have this up before 3.21. This is set during 3.20 and includes a (very) small bit from 3.21. Also, I've had some questions about "Breathe Again"-I do plan on continuing it, but it'll probably be after 3.22. Thanks for reading, and hope you enjoy! Thanks so much for all your comments/reviews so far, I really appreciate them!

* * *

It began surprisingly well, despite the fact that Mystic Falls dances never went well, whether they were held in the school gym or at the Lockwood mansion. Yet as Stefan fastened the corsage Elena felt her heart leap and she knew her eyes had gone all soft and dreamy; for a moment she couldn't breathe properly when she looked at him and it was the best feeling in the world. She took Stefan's arm and leaned slightly into him as they walked to his car, just a little bit, her hips brushing against his and Stefan smiled, a small smile but it's the largest she'd seen in ages. She's smiling too in spite of everything.

As they walked towards the gym, Elena's heels clacking noisily, Stefan tried to keep himself from tensing and tried desperately to forget about the last time he was in the gym with Elena. He tried desperately to focus on the present, the jazz music soaring through the hallways and the way the place was decorated to resemble a completely different era (not that the video projections fit in the slightest). The way Elena's hair was curled and pulled back, how her dress hugged her frame; the blush in her cheeks and the silver chain around her neck. He couldn't see her scar from here, but just the thought of it made him shiver.

"Wow," Elena remarked, gazing at the gym. "When I left this place was still in shambles-Caroline and everyone really did a great job."

"They did," Stefan quietly replied.

They still haven't actually stepped inside the gym, lingering in the doorway for a reason both of them know all too well.

"Stefan," Elena turned to him, her voice caught as she squeezed his hand. "I-,"

But Stefan didn't wait. "Elena," he gently touched her face. "I am so sorry about that night. I am so sorry about...about everything."

Slowly, Elena reached up, covering his hand with her own. She should say something, but she couldn't, she wasn't sure if she was even capable of talking at the moment. Her fingers slid between his and all she could do was look at him and become lost in his eyes. Oh god, she had to tell him about Damon.

As if he somehow knew, Stefan said quietly, "Let's just try to have fun tonight, okay? I won't even complain about dancing, I promise."

Elena smiled even as she cursed herself for being such a coward. "You have to teach me some twenties moves. Please?"

He couldn't help smiling back and squeezed her hands.

For a while that's exactly what they did, have fun and lose themselves in dance moves. It was the happiest Stefan had seen Elena in ages, the youngest he'd seen her look since his return, and her smile proved to be as ridiculously contagious as ever. Even the slow dance (which both of them had thought might be awkward) was all right, more than all right. Slow dances had never been awkward for them before; they relished them, bringing their bodies as closely as possible, her fingers grasping his hair and his hands spanning her back, dancing to a music all their own and even though they were both a little nervous at first, soon they were melting against each other. He could feel her smile seep into his neck and closed his eyes, breathing her in and letting his own smile widen.

Like all Mystic Falls dances, the fun didn't last for very long.

* * *

They could have stayed there forever, wrapped in each other's arms while they stood in the dance debris. Streamers and posters lazily drifted to the ground and one of the banners had become unpinned, making the gym look exhausted, worn-out by the feet of dancing teenagers and the blaring music that had played for hours. It's quiet now, and for a while her sobs had echoed throughout the room. Now Elena's sobs became soft and quiet, but she wasn't ready to lift her face away from Stefan's shoulder because that would mean facing the world and she couldn't do that now, not without the night's loss slamming into her again. Alaric. _Alaric_. Just thinking his name made her silently wail against Stefan.

"Easy, love," Stefan whispered. His lips brushed against her ear as his voice dropped even further. "_Elena_."

He hadn't said her name like that in the longest time, breathing it out like it was his favorite thing to say.

Stefan moved his hands gently across her back, trying to comfort her even as he held her closer, needing to feel her against him and hear the sound of her heartbeat. Needing to know she was alive and safe, if not whole or happy.

Elena shuddered and fisted the collar of his jacket, exhaustion sweeping through her body and if it weren't for his arms, if it weren't for _him_, she would have collapsed completely. If that happened, Elena knew she wouldn't have been able to get up again. Alaric's last words ran through her mind and instantly Stefan's arms tighten around her (she hadn't thought that was even possible) like he knew exactly what she's thinking. She can feel his lips in her hair, silently murmuring something and it's comforting, more than comforting. She needs this, she needs him.

"Elena," Stefan whispered and just him saying her name like that felt like a lover's caress. She knew she couldn't stay like that forever, sobbing into his shoulder and pressing as close as possible to him, but she wanted to more than anything.

She really had missed him like crazy.

It's long past midnight by the time they return to the Gilbert house. It's not that late for either of them, all things considered, but they easily could have stayed at the school and fallen asleep on yoga mats borrowed from the equipment closet; Stefan had carried the duffle bag filled with most of Alaric's stuff (why the hell had he kept so many weapons at school?) and Elena as well, carrying her gently as if she might break. He knew she wouldn't-she's one of the strongest people he knows-but that night (every night) made him more protective of her than ever. Surprisingly, she let him do it, allowed him to scoop her up and cradle her against his chest. The didn't speak in the car, not with words, but constantly exchange glances, looks filled with pain and sorrow, grief consuming them both and threatening to drown them.

"How long will it take?" Elena asked quietly. She's curled on the couch, her knees drawn to her chest, and she looked small and young. She had just checked on Jeremy and found him fast asleep, or at least pretending to be, and she didn't try to wake him.

Stefan set the mug of tea on the table and sat on the couch, careful to leave some space between them because he wasn't sure where they were or how close she wanted him. He looked at her, wondering how to answer her question without hurting her even more than she already had been that night.

"It can depend on the person," he replied and tried to make his voice gentle. "Some fade away quickly, after only a couple of hours. For others it's longer, more drawn-out. Vicky Donovan started to fade after six hours or so."

Elena clutched the mug tightly as if it were a talisman. "We-I should have gone back."

"He wouldn't have wanted you to," Stefan told her. "He didn't want you to see him like that."

"But he's alone," Elena whispered. "He's dying and he's alone."

There's nothing he can say about that, absolutely nothing. No words could comfort her from what was happening to Alaric, from how she had lost another family member.

Elena sighed and folded himself against Stefan without thinking about it. "What about the body?" she asked.

"Damon and I will deal with it," Stefan said. He watched as a few strands of her hair escaped from the intricate hairstyle and fell across her cheek, his fingers itching to brush them back and trace her skin. Slowly, her eyes met his and he's frozen, falling into her eyes and wanting more than anything to pull her close and never let her go. The words "I love you" were on the tip of his tongue and he was so close to just blurting them out. He had to force himself to duck away, telling himself that with everything he's done to her he certainly didn't deserve even this, just sitting with her.

Elena shifted again and began to lightly touch his face, allowing her thoughts to wander as she traced his jaw, lingering close to his lips. She should tell him about Denver. She should go through Alaric's things, find out if there was anyone she would have to call and invite to the funeral. She had to figure out things about the funeral. There were a million things she had to do, but all she could do now was tilt her forehead against Stefan's as she took his hand, intertwining her fingers with his.

"I'm tired of losing people I love," she whispered and Stefan closed his eyes. "I am too," he spoke in a voice softer than a whisper and still Elena heard it, just as she knew Stefan heard her breath catch in her throat. She opened her eyes and his eyes made her want to fall apart completely.

Silently, she stood up and pulled him after her, dropping his hand when they were halfway up the stairs (when she could be sure he would follow). And he does follow, his eyes traveling over her body and wondering if her hand still hurt, knowing her heart still ached. She checked on Jeremy again before going to her room, and she's careful to keep her eyes from seeking out in the darkness the door to Alaric's room. Even though he had moved out, some of his things were still there, possessions she'll have to box up because he wouldn't be walking in there again.

Stefan leaned against the doorframe as he looked around her room, trying not to watch too closely as Elena pulled the bobby-pins out of her hair, releasing it in wavy curls that he longed to touch. He's barely gotten used to walking in her house again, let alone her room.

"You can come in, you know," Elena told him carefully. She wouldn't have had to give him permission in the past, when her room was like his room and his room like her own; now he's not entirely sure where to go, standing awkwardly by the bed for a moment before sitting on the very edge of it. Elena glanced at him, her face heating up as the memories flooded into her mind and the way a fire was spreading throughout her body. The things they did on that bed. The way he made her come completely undone.

Her hair finished, Elena paused before staring to undress, watching Stefan in the mirror. His eyes kept darting to her before he forced them away like he felt he wasn't allowed to look at her for more than a second, not here in her room with the ghosts of the past scattered around them forcing them to remember slow movements and lingering kisses. It's like he's afraid to look at her for too long and she tried to catch his gaze. Stefan, she thought, hating how uncomfortable he looked, how far they still were from each other. Then her hair got caught in the zipper of her cress and she winced, trying to pull it free and only getting twisted around and hopelessly tangled, more of her hair ensnared now.

"Stefan?" she asked and instantly he was there, looking relieved at having something to do.

He's hardly touching her and yet it felt like everything to Elena; she closed her eyes and leaned back against him as his fingers gently disentangled her hair from the dress before he unzipped it, his hand trailing down her spine and she gasped quietly when his finger touched the base of her spine. He dropped his hands but didn't move away.

"Thank you," she murmured. Slowly, she turned around and then she couldn't move anymore, his eyes holding her in place and she knew he's as equally powerless under her own gaze.

Everything seemed to last longer than normal, both of them moving in slow motion now. He inched her dress off and she let the heavy fabric slide off her body to pool on the floor. As Elena stepped out of it she lightly gripped his shoulders, never breaking eye contact and his hands slowly found her hips, circling them lightly. The kiss is sudden in its gentleness and the way it so was so swiftly transformed by hunger and pure desire. Within seconds her legs became woven around his hips and he's setting her on the desk, sending random books and papers flying haphazardly aside; she's clawing at his clothes (he looked fantastic in them, of course he did, but she wanted them gone now). The fabric of his shirt tore surprisingly easily and she assaulted his neck with kisses even as more of his weight fell on top of her, his tongue snaking around hers and a sound halfway between a groan and a growl rose in his throat.

She's gasping for breath when their lips broke apart and the way she looked at him nearly made Stefan lose all control; he could almost see how it would happen, carrying her to the bed or not even bothering, fucking her right there, tracing her skin with his tongue and sinking his teeth into her neck.

He wouldn't do that now, he knew that, but it still scared the hell out of him.

Elena brought his hand to her lips and kissed it, dragging her lips across the palm of his hand and he had to dig his nails into the back of the chair before he unraveled entirely. She's not smiling, but there's a lightness to her eyes that hadn't been there before, light Stefan hadn't seen in ages.

"I'm going to shower," she told him. The "join me" was left unspoken.

They kept glancing at each other, trying not to look for too long, trying not to get caught as they searched each other for fresh scars or old wounds, places they knew by heart. Stefan's eyes lingered on the small scar on the back of her leg, a remnant from a childhood figure skating accident that she honestly couldn't remember at all; he's kissed that scar a thousand times.

Elena ended up leaning against Stefan, nearly losing it again after remembering the time Jenna and Alaric almost caught them having sex in the shower and she nearly laughed at the memory before it hit her again. Her tears seep into his neck as she remembered not the Alaric of a year ago but the Alaric of that night, pale and dying, like how it would hurt to think of Alaric until someday it wouldn't cripple her think about him. Stefan held her and ran his lips over her hair even as his own tears fell.

The clothes he'd left were still there, still hidden in the bottom drawer of her bureau and for some reason that made Stefan's heart ache more than the sight of her clothes still kept in his own drawers (she'd taken over several of them along with half his closet). He pulled on sweatpants and Elena wordless drew the covers back, inviting him to stay, to crawl back into his side of the bed. She wouldn't look at him, her gaze fixed on the ceiling as if her eyes could pierce straight through to see the stars, but her hand found his and she sighted softly when his fingers laced around hers. Already their bodies were curling towards each other, already being in Elena's bed felt like home; it wasn't the bed, he knew, it was her body besides his.

She slept restlessly, often crying out and murmuring-whimpering-names. Alaric. Jenna. Dad. Mom. Even in her sleep she couldn't find peace, not even when he tucked her bear besides her or held her close. All through the night he held her hand tightly, afraid to let go even for a second.

* * *

Early in the morning, when the light was still weak and grey, Elena woke up and couldn't get back to sleep. For a while she simply lay there, sometimes looking at him and sometimes looking beyond him, lost in her own thoughts. She'll need to make sure Jeremy's okay, she can't let herself break in front of him. Maybe they could clean out Alaric's room and apartment together, or maybe she should do that herself, pack up Rick's things and shelter Jeremy as much as possible because fuck it, he's her little brother and she's supposed to be protecting him instead of dragging him further into this mess. Maybe she shouldn't have brought him back to Mystic Falls, maybe she should have sent him to Tokyo or New Zealand, get him as far away from the Originals as possible.

Stefan could read all of this on her face and simply squeezed her hand, reminding her that she wasn't alone. She didn't have to go though alone, his eyes told her.

"Hi," she whispered. In response he smoothed some of her hair away from her face, his fingertips lingering on her cheek as he murmured, "Hi."

She needed to check on Jeremy and for a long moment Elena just stood in the doorway to Jeremy's room, watching as he slept, music still playing softly from the headphones. He's alive, he's safe, but she didn't know for how long either of those conditions would last as long as Klaus stayed in town. He's still wearing his ring, and as much as Elena wanted to rip it off and melt it, anything to get rid of the danger it now held, she couldn't bring herself to actually do it. What if Jeremy hadn't been wearing the ring when Damon had snapped his neck? What if that ring was the only thing that would save him when Klaus' next attack came? Or maybe in the end, the ring would ultimately cause Jeremy's destruction.

Shivering, Elena crossed to Alaric's door and slowly pushed it open, taking in the room. A lot of his stuff was already gone, taken back to his apartment when his Jekyll-Hyde problem was discovered, and he had never really had much stuff there anyways. Yet it still hurt to look at the empty closet, the remaining books he'd left behind. Mystery novels picked up at a library book sale for when he finally got a free moment. She wondered if he even opened one.

Stefan's behind her and even as she wanted to collapse against him, she bit her lip and forced herself to tell him.

"I kissed Damon," she said quietly. After a moment she was able to turn to him. "I kissed him in Denver and I... I don't know how far..." she couldn't complete the sentence.

Stefan nodded just once, his face becoming a still mask but even so she could see his jaw clench ever so slightly, his hand curling into a light fist. Within seconds he relaxed again, reaching for her shirt and pulling her towards him, his arm snaking around her waist.

"I don't want to hide from you," Elena murmured. She leaned up and kissed him, not even thinking about what she was doing as she kissed him light and slow, moaning when he responded, crushing her body against his.

When they broke apart both their lips were bruised and they couldn't look at each other properly.

"If I stopped by later, would that be all right?" Stefan murmured, his fingers in her hair.

"More than," Elena whispered.

* * *

They've dragged out the furniture and found all the painting supplies in the garage where their dad stored them, planning on finally redoing the guest room (their mother had been delighted by this plan). He had never gotten around to doing it.

Now the whole house smelled of fresh paint and they were no where near done. They didn't even bother eating breakfast before they started painting; neither one of them would have been able to eat anyways. Jeremy even took off his headphones and they made sure the music was cheerful and loud, just enough to drown out their thoughts.

She heard his footsteps on the stairs, but didn't turn around until he spoke. Elena's eyes met Stefan's, and neither of them could look away, their eyes becoming soft and light, hearts growing lighter as they look at each other.


End file.
